


If I Woke Up Next To You

by chchchchcherrybomb



Series: The Desperate Type [20]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, I wrote Fluff who am I?, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moving In Together, Sleepy Cuddles, The Desperate Type, grad school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb
Summary: Evan has a surprise for Connor around Christmastime.TDT oneshot, post "I Don't Do Too Well."





	If I Woke Up Next To You

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS I WROTE FLUFF? Okay it's still a little bit sad but it is MOSTLY FLUFF?
> 
> Reminder that I share custody of Dave the Tattoo Artist with my friend and grandchild, @murphystar. She also owns Finley, Aletheia, Dalton, and the rest of the Schwartz clan. 
> 
> Basically, happy holidays and I love you all!

**Connor**

*******

Connor was in the process of grading what might have genuinely been the worst essay ever written about  _ Twelfth Night.  _ Or  _ Twelveth Night,  _ as the person writing the essay had called it, despite the fact that the title had been spelled correctly in the prompt. Grant, the student who had written this gem of an essay, was something of a dudebro who was obviously taking the freshman lit class to complete a gen ed requirement. Connor had him in his Tuesday section, and on the rare times he seemed to have done the reading, he usually loudly offered some loud critique of the material, including memorably when he said he couldn’t finish  _ The Great Gatsby  _ after someone implied that Nick might not be straight. A Kappa Kappa Testosterone couldn’t be reading gay books!

In this instance, star student Grant had answered the prompt about the gender switching in  _ Twelfth Night  _ with such a hamfisted and transphobic argument that Connor was struggling not to simply give it an F out of spite. Grant had been a pain in the ass for the entire semester, and he probably deserved to fail.

But Connor fought that urge. Technically by the rubric, Grant had eeked out a very low D, and if it meant keeping him from retaking the class, Connor considering it worth not finding some other reason to fail him. 

To satisfy that petty urge, however, Connor did circle the weaker and more problematic points and turn the margins red with notes saying things like “where is this supported in the text??” and “this needs a lot of clarification” or “Looks like you keep mixing up Malvolio and Sebastian, which weakens the argument significantly” and “This appears to be from the plot of  _ She’s The Man _ ; they don’t actually play soccer in Shakespeare.” This particular professor he TAed for was pretty big on making sure the students always got feedback, and even though Connor suspected Grant would probably throw this in his backpack and forget about it, he still made sure to give notes on notes on notes. 

Connor sighed. It was strange being on campus now that the semester was basically over. He was stuck until the 20th, when the last of his students’ papers were due. He could grade the rest at home, but the professor he TAed for had this weird rule against submitting papers digitally. Something about the finality of handing in a physical piece of paper. He didn’t know, but he sort of understood - he was a library student afterall. He got the appeal of having something physical to read. 

It was sort of depressing sitting in this Starbucks with a Christmas cup in front of him and a jazz rendition of Jingle Bells playing on the PA system, but not being able to go home just yet. Just… mildly depressing. Like it bummed him out. Not capital D Depressing. Not call his therapist, adjust his meds depression. He was doing okay, considering. Just a bit bummed out, being stuck here on his own. 

Zoe had offered to stick it out, stay in town with him even though her finals were all papers due online that didn’t require her to be in town, but he sent her home with Alana and promises that he would come straight home as soon as he had all of his students’ papers in hand. He considered it something of a win that he didn’t make her stay just so he wouldn’t have to be alone. 

Progress. 

Connor was notoriously bad at being alone.

Admittedly, he didn’t really want to go back to his empty apartment. When he had picked the place out, he’d been imagining it as a space for two people… and it felt too big, too roomy sometimes. Sometimes he just couldn’t be there by himself. 

But Starbucks did eventually close and unfortunately, in bad habit he had picked up from Evan, Connor had felt obligated to keep buying coffees or he would have felt guilty for taking up a spot. So when the store closed at midnight and he was finished grading for the day, he wasn’t even remotely tired. In fact he was massively wired. Damn it. 

Connor smoked on the way home, shivering a bit, missing the days when he used to be able to drive everywhere. It was too cold, all of this walking. He was beginning to think he neglecting his car, but parking was a bitch around campus. Connor thought the holiday lights made it pretty, at least. The town was largely deserted; most of the undergrads had finished up, save for the few unlucky ones who had papers due on the 20th, like Connor’s students. 

Once back in his lonely apartment for two with the tiny holiday tree he and Evan had put up a few weeks back still shining in the window. 

He looked at it for a moment as the feeling back to his nose and cheeks. His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Evan’s name on his screen made Connor smile. 

_ “On my fifteen. Just witnessed a soccer mom have a tantrum because the flameless candles aren’t scented. She’s calling the Better Business Bureau.” _

Connor grinned.  _ “Oh no,”  _ he texted back.  _ “They’ll storm Pottery Barn with torches and _

_ pitchforks.”  _

_ “Why are you up?”  _ Evan texted him. 

_ “Grading exams,”  _ Connor explained.  _ “Bad batch.” _

_ “I’m sorry,”  _ Evan replied. 

Another text followed,  _ “Can’t wait to see you.” _

It made Connor’s heart squeeze a bit. It had been a tough few months, figuring out a routine that worked for both of them. At first, Connor was so convinced they were going to repeat their first year of college that he seriously debated putting school on hold until Evan was in a more stable place. 

Part of that, Connor had to admit, was the ringing in his ears from the summer,  _ Because you know, normally? Normally I am the one with my shit together, actually.. Normally it’s me fixing shit for you, looking out for you, freaking out about  _ you _. I’m the one who has it together. _

Evan wasn’t wrong about that. Evan was The Together One, The Better One. Connor thought he knew the score about that, thought he had accepted his position as The Sick One. 

But then Evan was the sick one and Connor realized he was horribly ill equipped to do anything to help, especially from a distance. And worse than that, even when he could physically help, sometimes the emotional toll it took was just… too damn high. 

He wanted to take care of his boyfriend. Connor thought that was reasonable. 

But then he’d catch himself taking two and three hour long depression naps, being irritable and moody, and Zoe had point blank sat him down and told him he was overextending himself. 

“You need to take a step back,” Zoe said firmly. “If you call him twice a day looking for a mental health update, you’re both going to end up exhausted. You have to trust him that he will tell you if something is wrong.”  
“But…” Connor had protested. Because that was patently not true. Because Evan was an expert at hiding away his pain.

Because Connor’s was louder, more in your face. 

He felt guilty about that too. 

So Connor did the only thing he could manage, which was to drag himself to his therapist’s office. His new shrink insisted that Connor call her Laura, and he sort of thought she might genuinely be like the Patron Saint of Healthy Boundaries. 

“You know that you’re not the only support system Evan has,” Laura pointed out during an especially tearful session. “You said that his mom looks after him. He’s been visiting with Dave and Aletheia too. He talks to his old roommate and friends. He’s got a whole village of people to help him through this, Connor. You are not solely responsible for his mental health… and holding yourself to that unattainable standard seems to be doing you more harm than good.”  
He remembered vividly wanting to protest that it was his job to do the bulk of the heavy lifting, that Evan was his boyfriend for fuck’s sake. 

But she had a point. 

And since Connor and Evan had a rule against keeping secrets, the next time Connor saw Evan in person, he announced that they needed to work on their boundaries. It still felt wrong and foreign, like he was intentionally building a wall to keep them apart… but Laura had suggested thinking of it more like a shower curtain. Something light and easily adjustable which established what went in and what went out. 

“Sometimes you need privacy, or you just don’t want a wet floor, so you make sure the shower curtain is totally closed. You can still hear through it and peek around it, but it is closed,” She said. “And sometimes you’ll be having a bath and want to invite your partner to join you in the tub, so you leave the curtain open.” She had laughed. “It’s not a perfect metaphor but… I want you to stop imagining boundaries like these… concrete barriers that you use to keep someone out. Think of them as a way to decide when to invite them in.”

It was something that was still taking time and adjustments. Learning things that were basic to other people, like being honest and not keeping secrets didn’t mean you had to tell each other everything in exhaustive detail. And learning that there were times when it was okay to take a step back and trust that you wouldn’t be abandoned as a result. 

Connor was, by his own admission, struggling with that one.

He genuinely worried sometimes, when his conversations with Evan stayed in the mundane, if maybe this was what drifting apart felt like but both of them were too scared to investigate. 

He didn’t want it to be. He loved Evan so much, the idea of not being together anymore turned his stomach.

Texts like this one from Evan though, will silly work anecdotes and “I can’t wait to see you”s helped a lot. And Evan was clearly trying. Maybe trying more than anyone else could see. He even had a job interview at the state health department two weeks ago, and Connor thought he maybe was more nervous about it than Evan was. Because it felt like it was their big chance to… really do this thing. 

But Evan hadn’t heard back and Connor was trying not to worry too much about it. Evan said he wanted them to work it out, one way or another. That he wanted that for the two of them. 

It was hard, this time of year though, to always believe it. It was almost Christmas and he was lonely and missed his boyfriend, and no amount of “ _ Can’t wait to see you _ ” texts could cure that. He just had to wait it out. 

Connor curled up in bed, a Christmas movie playing on his television, and somewhere around the time Cameron Diaz realized she was in love with Jude Law, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

 

**Evan**

*******

It was a weird move, Evan knew. Especially since they made such a big deal out of 1. Not keeping secrets from each other and 2. Not exchanging gifts at major holidays. So this was incredibly out of character for Evan. 

But he figured since he had only held out on this information for three days while he accepted the job offer after a long conversation with his mom and a longer one his therapist, Evan decided it was forgivable. The state parks department sent over a official offer letter, and Evan wrapped it in a box with shiny paper, along with a check for exactly half of Connor’s rent. He wasn’t even waiting until it was properly Christmas or anything. He was just waiting for Connor to get home from his last classes. He had finished his own papers, but he had to stay around to grade some freshman English papers until December 20th. 

But the minute he got back, Evan was handing him a clumsily wrapped rent check so he could ask if they could finally, properly, move in together. 

They kept talking about it, even after the summer, even after the hospital stays and the outpatient therapy and the nights working at Pottery Barn. Which Evan appreciated. It was never a question of if Evan was coming to live with him, but a matter of when. When it would be okay for Evan, health wise, when it would be okay, job wise, when it would be okay, when, when, when. Never if. 

Evan had naturally been a little nervous about this gift idea, of course. He was a nervous person on his best days, and big leap of faith, grand romantic gestures didn’t come easily to him. He spent an entire afternoon waiting for a text from Zoe to confirm that it was “totally adorable, he’s probably going to cry.” Alana echoed the sentiment, getting back to him lightning fast to say,“That’s genuinely the most perfect idea. He’s going to be ecstatic.” 

On the evening of the 19th, Evan was invited to Dave’s for dinner. He and Aletheia were hosting a late Hanukkah/early Christmas/welcome home dinner for Dalton, since Hanukkah had fallen early that year and Dalton had still been in Florida. Evan had initially been a little hesitant to attend… Not because of Dave and Aletheia. He ended up visiting with them every few weeks since Connor had started grad school.

At first, Evan assumed Connor had asked Dave to check up on him while he was away, that it was a pity hang out, but Dave and Evan genuinely got along well. As did he and Aletheia. They were sort of like having a pair of older siblings combined with a pair of hip, cool parents. Aletheia was teaching Evan to cook, since he and his mom weren’t exactly geniuses in the kitchen and Aletheia, to put it mildly, was Einstein. A genius with a spatula. And Dave, it turned out, had anxiety too. Like. Diagnosable anxiety. And somehow one cracked joke about having a casual anxiety attack over the electric bill made all of the awkwardness around them crack too. 

So it wasn’t Dave or Aletheia. It wasn’t even Finley, who was approaching two and utterly terrifying in her fragility. Evan found himself at ease with her, even though she was a baby. A tiny, very breakable, easily hurt baby. Maybe it was because she kept falling asleep on him… something about that was comforting. 

No the nerves were because of Dalton. Evan was in a group chat with Dalton and Connor, and another with Dalton, Yanira (Dalton’s girlfriend), and Connor, that objectively existed to try to organize a double date that never seemed to materialize, but was mostly for sending lame memes to each other. But those chats hadn’t quite cured Evan of his anxiety about Dalton. That Connor liked Dalton more than he liked Evan, that they got each other better than Evan would ever get Connor, that secretly they talked about how lame and sick he was. 

Which was stupid. Evan and Dalton had spent a few days on the same psych ward while they watched Dalton’s meds after his first cocktail made him dehydrated and sick. He knew it was stupid. He knew Dalton wasn’t going to talk shit about him and he knew Connor wouldn’t either. But… well. Still. Dalton made him nervous. 

And telling Dave and Dalton about his plan… made him more nervous. What if they thought it was stupid? What if they tried to talk him out of it? He’d already wrapped the damn fucking stupid letter so it had better not turn out to be a bad idea. 

So Evan arrived, wringing his hands, and then ringing the doorbell. Dave answered the door with Finley on his hip, smiling and saying hello while Finley cried “Eban!”

“Hi Fin,” he said, smiling. “Hi Dave.”

“Hey man, come on in.”

“Is that Evan?” Aletheia’s voice floated from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, hi!” He said.

“Get in here, I’m making lentil soup.” 

Evan smiled at Dave, then removed his shoes and hung up his coat. He gave Fin a kiss on the head and then walked to the kitchen in his socks to help Aletheia. Her dark hair was tied up, her feet in a pair of polka dot socks and bright pink Crocs, and Evan spotted challa cooling on the counter and what looked like a platter of tamales. “Hey sweetie,” She said, hugging Evan. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” He said, nodding. 

“We’re having a bit of a religious and cultural smorgasbord,” She said, smiling. “Stir this please.”

Evan obeyed. He helped finish the soup, and watched as Aletheia steamed the tamales, before helping Dave to set the table. The doorbell rang again and Dave handed Finley to Evan while he went to answer. Fin put her hand to Evan’s face and giggled, running her chubby hand over the slight stubble on his chin. “Scratchy,” She said, giggling more. 

“I know,” Evan said, smiling at her. 

“Nana soon?” She asked then, her little face screwed up in concentration, like perhaps it had taken all of her toddler patience to wait this long to ask. Connor was probably Finley’s best friend, and he doted on her. Evan thought Dave had said that Connor had facetimed the other night specifically to talk to Finley. 

“Very soon.”

Dave and Dalton appeared in the dining room then, with Dalton calling hello to Aletheia and approaching Evan to say hi. “Hey man,” he said, giving Evan a one armed hug around Fin. “Hey Finny-girl.”

“He’s been watching Drag Race reruns again,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Haven’t you?”

“Michelle Visage for president,” Dalton said, smirking at his brother. Evan handed Fin over to Dalton’s waiting arms, and Dalton immediately took her on a drag queen-level strut into the kitchen on his tiptoes. Evan was pretty sure that he was humming “Sissy That Walk.”

When they all sat down to eat a little while later (there was a brief interlude where Dave made sure Fin actually ate something… apparently she was in a phase where eating was a struggle), Evan had relaxed a bit. Dalton was telling them about his exams, and cramming late at night with his girlfriend, laughing at himself a little and saying how he’d fallen asleep standing up, with his head leaned against the vending machine that sold pens and flash drives in the campus library. 

Evan smiled at that. Connor had a few stories about shooing exhausted undergrads out of the library for sleeping. He’d done a handful of overnight shifts during finals, trying to make some money for the holidays. Evan already knew he was going to spoil Fin rotten. He’d spotted a pile, several feet high, of items wrapped in shiny pink and purple paper when he had visited two weekends before. 

“So, how are things with you, Evan?” Dalton asked after taking a sip of wine. “Work still going alright?”

Evan smiled a little. “I um. I actually gave my notice at Pottery Barn yesterday.”

Dave broke out in a big smile. “Oh really?”

Evan nodded, smiling. “I um. I got a job in the state parks department, um. It’s pretty entry level, but I’ll be working with a conservation education team?”

“Isn’t that near Connor?” Aletheia said, smiling, and Evan nodded. 

Dave was already out of his chair, arms wide for a hug. “I won’t hug you if you don’t want, but oh boy do I wanna.”

Evan obliged, standing up to hug Dave (and then Aletheia and Dalton, and finally Fin who had put her arms up and whined when she didn’t get her own hug). 

“So what did Connor say?” Dalton asked. 

Evan swallowed hard. “I haven’t… I haven’t told him yet.” And then it all story of stumbled out, awkward and stunted and super not selling the attempt at a big romantic gesture. Even his best ideas came out jumpy and weird. “So, yeah, I um. I wrapped up my offer letter and a check for um… for half the rent and I… Like for a present, for the holidays? I hope he’ll like it?”  
Dave was giggling giddily. “Oh damn it, that’s so cute. Please do it soon so I don’t spoil it.”

“He’s so bad with secrets,” Aletheia said, rolling her eyes. “He almost spilled the beans about S-A-N-T-A the other day, how he’s not R-E-A-L? To a toddler.”

“He’s not?” Dalton said, looking alarmed. Dave swatted his head affectionately. Dalton turned to Evan then, grinning widely. “That’s some serious Jim Halpert shit. He’s going to love it.”

Evan nodded, hoping it was as well received as Jim buying a house without telling Pam first. He’d watched that episode recently. He hoped it was okay. 

They moved on, talking about other things. Aletheia talked a lot about how she was giving Evan cooking lessons. Apparently Evan wasn’t as hopeless as had feared. 

It sort of started as a fluke at the start of September, honestly. Dave texted him a couple of times saying he ought to come over for dinner, but things were still pretty shaky for Evan, so he made up a lot of excuses to get out of going. Evan wasn’t ready to interact with people yet. Work was a struggle and sometimes he would hide out in his bedroom if his mom had Chris over. People were the hardest thing for him to deal with at the time. And besides, Dave was Connor’s person; he was Connor’s friend. It wasn’t Evan’s place to intrude. 

Then it escalated. Small stuff, first. Like Dave just “dropping by” on his way home to give Evan something Aletheia had “made way too much of for two and a quarter people.” Dave never stayed long or pushed Evan, just dropped off dishes full of enchiladas or containers with matzo ball soup or a small slow cooker of white bean chili. Eventually, feeling guilty about the amount of Schwartz-Sinclair-Hernandez Family dishes he had collected (Dave never stuck around long enough for Evan to trade him, and there was a bit of a pile growing), he bravely texted Dave after a few weeks to insist he drop off the dishes after work one day. He’d worked that night, and assumed he’d just leave the dishes at the door and head home to rest, since it was early in the morning. 

But no dice. Aletheia spotted him as she was looking out the window and drinking a smoothie, and insisted he join them for breakfast. “I don’t work until this afternoon,” she explained, “but Dave has a meeting with his accountant, and I’m an early riser. I don’t remember if I was always an early riser or if Finley turned me into one, but regardless, I am awake.”

Evan smiled and nodded, internally panicking because, fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to do this. These were Connor’s people. He… they weren’t his to borrow. He’d been up all night. He needed a shower and to take his meds. He wasn’t meant for mornings or interactions or people. 

“Can I, uh… can I help?” He asked since it was clear he wasn’t going to get away with not staying.

Aletheia had directed Evan to put the cleaned dishes in the kitchen, on the counter, while she fired off a text. He stupidly thought that she was probably texting someone to complain about him turning up, unannounced, like a total creep. But he took a breath and reminded himself that she wouldn’t have invited him inside if that was the case. 

Aletheia started working on breakfast, asking Evan if he wanted coffee or a smoothie or anything. He shook his head, thinking he needed to go to sleep when he got home and that coffee would only delay the inevitable. Aletheia started cracking eggs into a bowl when Evan heard Finley cry from upstairs. 

“Hey, babe, I’m right in the middle of shaving, can you grab her?” Dave’s booming voice sounded. Evan wondered what on earth Dave was shaving, considering he always wore a beard.  

“Sure thing,” She replied. She handed the bowl with the eggs over to Evan, plopping a whisk into it. “Do me a huge favor and beat these eggs for me? And yes, you’re really staying for breakfast, don’t argue. Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.” She dashed up the stairs. 

Evan stared into the bowl with the eggs. A few of the yolks had started to run into the whites, but several of them were still intact. Evan had never beaten an egg in his life. He and his mom didn’t spend a whole lot of time cooking, and most of what they did came in boxes or were easy things they could dump in the CrockPot and forget all about. If they remembered to turn it on, of course. 

Mostly they just ate a lot of pizza. 

Eggs were not a thing they made in the Hansen household. He doubted either he or his mom had purchased an egg in over a decade.

But nevertheless, not wanting to let Aletheia down, Evan started to awkwardly stir the eggs together. He’d never used a whisk before, and suddenly found himself envious of the semester that Jared had taken a cooking class in high school, because he was certain that whisks were covered. Definitely should have taken the class. Regardless, Evan stirred, awkward and jerky and probably wrong, but he figured… well. As long as the eggs got beaten. More yokes broke, spreading their yellow all over the bowl, but never really mixing with the whites. He stirred a little bit more determinedly, watching, surprised, as the eggs transformed into a frothy yellow mixture with each click of the whisk on the bottom of the bowl. 

Aletheia reappeared with a sleepy eyed Finley in her arms. She deposited Fin in her high chair, shaking out a small amount of Cheerios for her, and turning back to Evan. “Thanks! Looks great!” She took the bowl back, and started to add things into it. 

“Thanks…” Evan mumbled, shrugging. “I’ve actually never. Like. Beaten eggs before.”

Aletheia turned to look at him, apparently surprised. Evan shrugged again. “My… Me and my mom, uh? We aren’t, like, master chefs or, um, whatever. We… don’t cook a lot.” 

She smiled kindly. “I am seriously scared to ask what you and Connor eat when you’re together.”

Evan smiled a little. “A lot of take out. We’ve also mastered the PB&J.”

She flinched. “Well, here. Eggs are one of the first things you can learn.” She walked him through the steps of this scramble she was making, explaining each ingredient she added, and instruction him how to pour the beaten eggs into the frying pan and when to start to stir them. “Really make sure you’re getting all of the eggs scooped from the bottom of the pan, or they’ll start burning.”

He nodded, trying to do that. She smiled encouragingly, then asked him to place the now cooked eggs onto three plates. There were berries and chunks of honeydew to accompany the eggs, (Aletheia passionately explained her method for producing bite-sized pieces of melon, which was apparently some kind of family secret), some whole grain toast, and yogurt as well. Evan usually ate, like, a poptart or toast for breakfast. This was… too much. No wonder Aletheia and Dave were so muscular and massive. They were consuming a normal amount of nutrients.  

Dave appeared in the kitchen a little while later, kissing Finley’s head and then Aletheia before saying hello to Evan. They were all fresh and awake from a good night’s sleep, and he had spent the evening unloading cases of fragile vases and helping to turn the store into an appropriate level of fall, with new decor and display items. He was tired. They looked happy and up and… He really ought to go. 

As if Dave had read his mind, he smiled and said, “Did I hear you and Connor only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

“Sometimes.”

“That kid is going to get scurvy,” Aletheia said, shaking her head. She pointed to a seat at their table, so Evan sat, and she put a plate in front of him. “Please don’t get like him.”

Evan smiled a little, awkwardly imposing on this family-breakfast that was too nice for him to crash. 

“You know,” Aletheia said, spearing a piece of honeydew. “You should come over for dinner this weekend. We can do another cooking lesson, if you want? You’re already on your way to being an egg expert.”

“Sure… maybe,” Evan said, smiling. “I’ll just… I’ll check my schedule.”

They did end up doing cooking lessons about once every week or so. Evan was no expert, but he could fry an egg, steam vegetables, and make a few meals that Aletheia considered mandatory. They even went on a few trips to the grocery store together so she could point him in the direction of affordable food items that weren’t frozen or prepackaged. His mom, Evan noticed, was a big fan of this. She was always complimenting the food he made and brought home, and sometimes she even left money requesting he make something for her (and even her and her boyfriend, Chris). 

Connor thought that was hilarious, and he was always excitedly saying he would be happy to shop if Evan felt like cooking. But so far, Evan was just too plain nervous to try to cook in front of him. He was still new to all of this. He didn’t want to overhype his skills only to disappoint. 

“So you cook now? Damn it, no wonder Connor likes you better,” Dalton said, smiling goofily. Evan felt his face turn red, and Dave shot a stern look over the table. “Sorry… I was just… sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Evan said, trying to shrug it off. He smiled awkwardly at Dalton. “Maybe… maybe you ought to watch out, though. I hear ladies like, um, like guys who can cook.” 

Dalton chuckled, like he was both amused and surprised, and the tension seemed to disappear quickly after that. Dave showed off a new tattoo of a scorpion that he’d gotten to cover up an old tattoo he’d give himself. 

“I don’t understand how you can tattoo yourself,” Dalton said. “It was hard enough to sit still when someone else is doing it.”

“I guess I’m just talented.”

“More like he was high when he did it,” Aletheia said, rolling her eyes. “Yet another reason why we don’t do drugs that aren’t legally prescribed in this house.”

“So totally right,” Dave smiled at her. “I love you.”

“Gross,” Dalton teased, but he was smiling. 

“Love you too,” Aletheia said smiling back. 

“Luv!” Finley cried, and that made everyone smile. 

Since his mom had dropped him at Dave’s (she was borrowing his car while hers was in the shop for a new something-or-other), Dalton was kind enough to drive him home. “Normally I’d stay over,” he said casually, “But my therapist is really on me to try to stick to routines over break, and sleeping on the couch is pretty out of the ordinary for me.”

Evan’s mind flashed the the number of Dalton-sleeping-in-weird-places photos that had been shared in their group chat in the last month or so. 

“Well… at least… not all night.”

Evan smiled and nodded. “How’s, um, how’s Yanira?” 

Dalton smiled slowly. “Good. Really good.” He shrugged behind the wheel. “We just… we click, you know? I totally freaked out after the summer, thinking… well. You know. I worried myself sick thinking I’d finally scared her off.”

Evan nodded. He’d felt that this summer. His own voice still echoed in his ears from time to time, ragged and scratchy, telling Connor that he thought Connor was the sick one, that Connor needed help all the time, and how it wasn’t fair. He felt his lips twitch down into a frown before trying to force them into an understanding smile. “Yeah. It. It really sucks.”

“How’s… how’s y’know, everything with you?” Dalton asked kindly. “Like I’ve gotten the whole ‘Evan seems good,’ thing from Dave and Connor and whatever, but like. How’s… how’s everything? Really?”

“Better,” Evan said after a few deep breaths. “Honestly? Better. Still not… like. Totally back to where I was before I, um, before I graduated? But. I feel less… out of control.”

“That’s awesome! I’m happy to hear it.” He sounded happy too. 

“And? Um, and you?”

Dalton nodded. “Going back to school was tough, but I feel better about it now.”

“That’s really, like, um. That’s great.”

“So, are you excited about the new job?” Dalton asked. 

“I am,” Evan said, honestly. “Like. Obviously I’m, you know, kind of anxious about everything changing… but I’m always anxious so. It’s... I think. It’s good. It’s a good change? I think?”

Dalton smiled. “Good.” A few minutes passed, a low and staticy Christmas song playing on the radio. “I really do think Connor is going to be absolutely floored by your present, by the way.”

“Y-yeah?”   


“Yeah man, he loves that kind of sappy shit. He just pretends not to because he’s bad at doing it himself.”

Evan thought about that, wracking his brain for evidence to back up Dalton’s theory or prove it wrong. Connor… he didn’t do sappy, really. Neither of them did sappy. But he did one better. He showed up. Even when a phone call was probably a better idea. Evan thought of Connor, at nineteen, with his arm in a cast and stitches in his forehead because he’d driven two hours in an ice storm to tell Evan he loved him. He thought of Connor coming over in the middle of the night because Evan had texted to say he was panicking about an exam, and how he’d just be there within ten minutes, drop everything, no matter what. He thought about this summer, how Connor had made a different two hour long drive in just over an hour, speeding until he found Evan and made sure he was okay. 

“That’s true,” Evan said, shrugging. “But I… I guess that’s good, for me? I don’t super, like, love surprises?”

“Yeah. Makes sense.” Dalton smiled. “I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

Evan smiled, twitchy and awkward, but Dalton was smiling at him (270 million megawatt, male supermodel smile, damn it) and it didn’t make him feel like shrinking or dying or whatever. Good news. Progress. 

“Let me know what he says,” Dalton said as he turned into Evan’s driveway. “Or get a picture or secretly tape him or something. That shit would go viral.”

Evan snorted out a laugh. 

* * *

“It smells good in here,” Evan’s mom said, walking into the kitchen. She was wearing a cute dark blue dress; Evan knew she was going to see a production of  _ A Christmas Carol _ at a local theatre. Chris’s daughter was playing the Ghost of Christmas Past. She was a senior at the local community college.

“Thanks,” Evan said. He was cooking. It wasn’t anything spectacular or fancy, but he was cooking, a recipe from Aletheia, and Connor was coming over. “You look nice!”

“Thanks,” His mom said, smiling. “Are you nervous?”

Evan shook his head. “No. Not really. We’ve been talking about it so… yeah. I’m not too nervous.” He was full of shit but he didn’t want his mom to worry. These were normal nerves, not the sort that could send him to the hospital. 

Heidi nodded. She walked over and kissed his cheek (she had to stand on her toes a little to manage). “I’m so proud of you honey.”

“Thanks mom.” He smiled at her. “Don’t stay out too late”

“I’ll probably stay over at Chris’s,” She said, smiling. 

“Well then, don’t come home too early,” Evan teased, and his mom smiled and pulled on her jacket and headed out the door. “Love you!” Evan called after her. 

“Love you!” She called back. 

Evan peered at the oven, at the food cooking there, and then headed to his bedroom to change out of the shirt he had managed to get a little olive oil on. He finished changing, checked the mirror, smiled a little at himself, like he was checking he was doing it right, and the doorbell sounded as he was returning to the kitchen. 

Evan rushed to the door, pulling it open, revealing Connor, in his black jacket and black hat and black boots and that (his heart sped, just a little) red scarf. “Hi,” Evan said, smiling. 

“Hi,” Connor said back, smiling, eyes crinkling a little behind his glasses. Evan pulled him in for a kiss, smiling against Connor’s cold lips, his fingers gripping the back of his jacket. When Evan pulled away, Connor’s cheeks were pink. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the kiss, but it was a nice view. 

They closed the door, and Connor hung up his coat and took off his snowy boots. He was wearing a dark blue sweater and a pair of old jeans, and in his socks and glasses, he looked a lot… softer than Evan remembered him. More vulnerable. And tired. He kissed him again, on the cheek. It was cold against his lips.  “How are you?”

Connor pulled Evan in for a hug, sort of leaning into him a little. “Tired. But okay. You?”

“Great,” Evan said. “I’m great.”

Connor pulled away just a little, just so they were face to face. He was grinning widely. “Great?”   


“Yeah. Great.” Evan smiled back at him. It took them a few minutes to let go of each other; in fact, if the oven timer hadn’t gone off, it was possible that they might have stayed there, hanging onto each other in the middle of the living room, until the next day. Or the next week or month or year. 

“Oh. Right. I made dinner.”

“You  _ made  _ dinner?” Connor said, sounding surprised. “I mean I know you coo but… I haven’t actually witnessed this before.” Evan stuck his tongue out at Connor. “So you really made dinner?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Impressive,” Connor said, following Evan into the kitchen. He leaned back against the counter (the fucking  _ counter _ , Jesus), watching as Evan pulled the dish out of the oven. 

“It’ll need to cool down a little,” He said, shrugging. 

“Well if smell is anything to go on, being enrolled in Aletheia’s Culinary Institute is paying off.” Connor smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Finley misses you,” Evan said. “She always asks where you are.”

Connor snorted. “I just FaceTimed with her this week,” He said, shaking his head. “She kept saying ‘Nana soon?’ Like somehow the answer had changed while we were talking.”

“I’ve definitely felt that way before,” Evan said. 

“Please don’t start calling me Nana too,” Connor said, shaking his head. 

“Oh come on, Nana,” Evan said, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “You know you like it.”

Connor laughed, shrugging, looking a little self conscious. 

Evan wanted to launch himself at Connor, kiss away the dip in his shoulders. He decided he couldn’t wait another second to tell Connor about the job… 

“I have a present for you,” Evan said. 

Connor blinked in surprise. “What? But we don’t… we don’t do presents?”

“I know. And we’ll continue to not do presents in the future, but I’m making an exception this year.”

“But I didn’t -” Connor started, looking upset as Evan pushed the two small boxes at him. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Trust me,” Evan said, smiling. “You did. Just open them.”

Connor looked apprehensive as he put the two clumsily wrapped boxes on the counter. Glancing quickly at Evan, he pulled the paper off of the top, smaller box. He pulled off the lid, and Evan could feel his heart pounding a little hard. Connor pulled the check out of the box, looking at Evan sharply. “Why are you giving me money?” He asked. 

“Just open the next one. Please.”

Connor’s face clouded over, but he pulled the shiny paper off of the next gift. Inside the garment box sat Evan’s official offer letter, which Connor pulled it out slowly and carefully, like it was made of glass. Evan watched his eyes sweep over the words, his face screwed up in concentration, and then he turned, sudden and surprising, and he looked at Evan with his expression that he couldn’t quite pin down. Connor was smiling, but his eyes were filled with tears. “You found a job?” He said, his voice raspy and brittle. 

Evan nodded. 

“You… you want to move in? With me?”

“If you’ll still have me.”

Connor hugged him so hard that Evan feared he might have a cracked rib, but he hugged him back just as tightly, back pressed against the kitchen counter. Connor was crying, just a little, and smiling so hard Evan was sure his face must be starting to hurt, and Evan just kept kissing his cheeks, his hair, his forehead, his nose. 

“You’re sure?” Connor choked out, pulling away a little. “Like… Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Evan nodded. “I had a long conversation with my therapist and my mom, and everyone seems to think it should be alright.”

Connor nodded, apparently speechless. 

“Is that okay? With you?”

That time Connor hugged him just a little too aggressively, sending the pair of them tumbling to the floor, laughing. Evan used it as an opportunity to kiss his boyfriend senseless.

“We’ve got to stop ending up on your mom’s floor,” Connor said, breathlessly. 

“Do you think this will be the last time we make out on this floor?” Evan asked, smiling big and real and Connor kissed him. 

“We better make a it a good one, just in case,” Connor said. His mouth had warmed up now, but it still tasted like mint chapstick and cigarettes. Evan didn’t mind; he was just happy that Connor was there, looking tired but happy and unbothered that Evan’s nose had smudged his glasses. 

They did manage to eat the dinner Evan had prepared before it went cold. Connor even texted Aletheia to thank her for giving Evan the recipe. 

“Dalton wanted to know if you had asked me yet,” Connor said, smiling at his phone. “You told Dalton?”

“He was at dinner at Dave’s last night. I wanted to get opinions to make sure everyone didn’t think it was an idiotic idea.”

“No wonder Zoe was so excited for me to come over,” Connor said, smiling. “I was starting to feel like she was forcing me out the door.” 

Evan laughed.

* * *

 

 

**Connor**

*******

He had woken up in Evan’s tiny twin bed more times than he could count. It was familiar, the slight crick in his neck from curling up so tightly around Evan in the small space, the way the blankets smelled like a cake and like Evan’s shampoo and just… Evan.  

But this time was different. 

Because Evan had asked to move in with Connor, and Connor had said yes, and it was real. It was really happening. Evan had asked him. 

And it wasn’t like the first time that Evan had brought it up, when they were only sophomores in college, when Connor was still kind of laughing about the idea of staying alive. 

But now was different. Genuinely different. It was sort of weird. 

Connor liked it. He cuddled a little closer to Evan. 

“You’re up?” Evan’s groggy voice said. 

“I am,” Connor said. Evan rolled over, facing Connor and pressing a kiss to Connor’s collar bone. Connor smiled so hard it sort of hurt his face. “I’m not going to lie to you… I’m excited to get to wake up next to you in something other than a twin bed.”

“I know,” Evan mumbled sleepily. “You’re bony.”

“Yeah well you have sharp elbows,” Connor said, with a laugh. Evan responded by gently elbowing Connor in the side. Connor giggled, like genuinely giggled. 

“What do you need to do today?” Evan asked Connor after a few minutes of sleepy kisses. 

“I have a stack of papers to grade,” Connor said, sort of disappointed at the idea of getting out of this bed at all. “And then I’m finally done. Then I’m all yours for four weeks”

Evan nodded, looking thoughtful. “You could do them here.”

Not possible, Connor thought, because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. He would be distracted and give all of his kids Bs. He kindly shook his head, saying he thought he’d go to Starbucks so he could crank them all out. 

“I could go with you,” Evan said. “I’m off today.”

“You might be bored.”

“I doubt it.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. 

“I’ll bring a book,” Evan said. 

“Good idea.”

The pair of them got out of bed after a while, muzzy and sleepy while they got up and showered and dressed. 

“Where’s your mom?” Connor asked as he was toweling his hair while Evan brushed his teeth. 

“Work,” Evan said, “And she stayed at Chris’s last night.”

Connor smiled at Evan. He liked Chris. He privately thought it was only a matter of time before they were living together, but thought Heidi was probably hoping her adult son didn’t live with her before taking that step with her boyfriend. 

So maybe not too long now. 

The idea made Connor happy.

Though nowhere near as happy as the idea that before long he would be taking Evan home with him permanently.

* * *

 

**Evan**

*******

Once they were dressed, Connor and Evan bundled up in their winter jackets and braved the cold. Connor brought along his bag full of papers, and Evan carried along a paperback copy of a book Connor had lent to him ages ago but he never finished. 

They found a table at Starbucks, and Connor insisted on buying their drinks, which Evan sort of found endearing. Especially when he brought Evan’s favorite winter drink back without having to ask Evan what he wanted (a grande caramel apple spice, because it tasted like candy sweet apple orchard and... it reminded him of Connor). 

Connor got to work quickly. Headphones on to drown out the Christmas muzak and a green pen in his hand, making notes on the margins of the papers he graded. He circled and underlined things, and Evan realized after maybe twenty minutes that he hadn’t even bothered to crack his book open yet. He was so consumed with watching Connor, how focused he was, how cute that was. 

It was weird to think that after five years that Connor hadn’t gotten sick of him by now. 

Wait. 

That was an especially negative way to phrase that. 

Evan tried again: It was amazing that after five years, Evan and Connor still found new things to love about each other. 

Better. 

Connor got a line between his eyebrows when he was really thinking, and he sometimes put the tip of his pen to his lips and pulled on the clicker button gently. He never used his teeth on the pen though, which Evan thought was adorable. Connor made such an effort to be gentler to the things that surrounded him. He would duck his head and shrug in his shoulders and tuck in his elbows to make space for people when in a crowded place, he would clench his hands but never with something in them, and he never bit the ends of his pens. 

Evan wondered if Connor knew anyone had noticed this about him.

He thought maybe he’d tell him. 

At some point. It wasn’t really a secret. 

Connor got one refill of coffee, and split a muffin with Evan. He noted, after a long stretch 

of quiet, that he was lucky the essays were only eight to ten pages long. “Otherwise we’d be here all night.”

Evan realized, strangely, that there was nowhere else he’d rather be right then.

They stayed in the Starbucks for a few hours before heading to the Murphys’ house 

where Evan was greeted with a number of hugs and even a kiss on the cheek from Mrs. Murphy. 

From Cynthia. 

He’d never been quite able to get that right in his head. 

Zoe told him, on their way to the kitchen where Larry was making a batch of hot chocolate, that Cynthia had gone caroling with the neighbors and apparently was “hammered already.” Evan thought she kept it together pretty well, considering. 

He and Zoe and Alana all caught up, crowded together on the big plush sectional in the Murphys’ living room,  _ Titanic  _ playing but mostly neglected in the background. Evan swore he had seen this movie over one hundred times since meeting Connor. 

Connor sat on the other side of the sectional on his laptop, entering feedback and grades in online. He’d chime in once in a while, adding details to Alana’s stories or contradicting them from Zoe’s, or just quoting the next line that was being said in the movie. Larry handed out a second mug of hot chocolate to everyone and tried to suggest a third when Connor said, “Jesus dad, diabetes is a killer” and he backed off with a good natured smile. Evan was grateful because his teeth were starting to feel thick with the coating of sugar. 

“Finally done!” Connor announced at about eight o’clock that night. He was yawning and his eyes looked tired. “Hooray!” he deadpanned before yawning. 

“Congrats,” Evan said, squeezing his hand. “You did it!”

“Thanks,” Connor said, pulling him closer and resting his head on Evan’s shoulder. He was out like a light almost instantly, and Evan let himself relax a little more. 

This was a hard year. But the next year would be better. 

After all, they’d be together.

* * *

 

 

**Connor**

*******

On January fifth, Evan officially moved into their apartment. Connor had left an hour ahead of Evan and his mom, keeping Evan’s boxes of clothes company. When he arrived, Connor took the time to tidy up a few things he had left untidy before going home. He then unwrapped the banner he had made (with a slight assist from Finley, who had doodled on the corner with bright yellow magic marker) that said “Welcome Home, Evan!” 

He hung it from the loft where his -

No. 

Where their bedroom was. 

When Evan used his key to open the door, Connor felt a flood of excitement, sort of like being a little kid on Christmas morning. 

“Hi,” He said when Evan stepped inside their apartment. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” Evan said, sort of shyly. 

“You good?”

“Great.”

“Perfect.”

“Awesome.”

It was good to be home, Connor thought. Both of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "I'm Like a Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)" by Fall Out Boy


End file.
